


A Sedate and Most Civilised Dinner Party

by WonderStarLord



Category: Gilmore Girls, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mentioned Alphard Black, Mentioned Charles Gilmore, Mentioned James Potter, Mentioned Marlene McKinnon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderStarLord/pseuds/WonderStarLord
Summary: “This is brilliant!”Sirius almost openly gaped at Lorelai, partly amused, partly appalled, and a smidgen admiring. “Brilliant? This is madness.”“Then madness must be brilliant.”His customary mask of affected boredom had nearly given way. “You’re mad.”“I’m jazzed.”Harry Potter Marauders’ Era + our illustrious Gilmore family.
Relationships: Emily Gilmore/Richard Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore/Sirius Black, Orion Black/Walburga Black
Kudos: 1





	A Sedate and Most Civilised Dinner Party

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another story I started and couldn’t finish because a new idea, maybe even a better idea popped into my head (I swear I have zero follow through …).  
>   
> Anyone who wants to take this one-shot and make it their own is welcome to.

What was supposed to be another stilted, stuffy dinner party had been held inside a splendid white-stuccoed house in a quiet corner of Kensington. While its outward appearance was utterly unmagical, right in uniform with the rest of the street, the sweeping interiors could not have been more to the contrary. Despite ninety-degree angles on each outside corner, every room inside was circular. Some people might have said that the straight, sloping rooves made very little sense since all the ceilings were magnificently domed. The people who would have thought that would never get the chance to make such an observation. People such as those were simply not welcome at number seven, Constabulary Court.

The guest list had started off small. A few Batonvert nieces, who were currently visiting from the Continent. Perhaps the Greengrass cousins could Floo in from Norfolk. And a Rosier relation or two would show interest, for sure.

Emily Gilmore was always cautious when extending invitations to her relatives. She was well within her right to. Certain social circles moved in packs, sticking like the most viscous of adhesives. If she invited _this_ family, then she also had to invite _that_ one – and so on and so forth. She had planned an intimate evening filled with twenty-one courses and polite conversation. She hadn’t quite prepared for the pandemonium that accompanied the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

_“Calvorio!”_

Verbal spellcasting at the dinner table? _Honestly._

Why her sister had chosen to marry into _that_ particular family was beyond Emily’s ability to reason.

The Blacks were not regular visitors at the Gilmore household. Strange, given their status. Not to mention, their proximity. Then again, as Emily had to duck a jet of violet light, she remembered exactly why this was the case. She could have winced at the sight of the newest scorch mark on her personally picked silk wall hangings.

“All right, Black, _now_ I understand why you are Acceptably competent. At duelling, at least.”

“A heartfelt compliment from her haughty highness, herself?” asked Sirius teasingly. “I’m touched.” He couldn’t summon the effort to be embarrassed by his family. That carpet had long flown.

“Hey! I’m not the haughty one, you arrogant berk!” Lorelai was not normally allowed to raise her voice indoors. Or outdoors. Or anywhere, if she listened to her mother. Those weren’t the actions of a proper young lady. Even though she would have done so anyway, she suspected that she could get away with it this time.

They had made it to the shellfish course when all hell broke loose.

“Completely inadequate, Jenkins is.”

“I say we impeach the imbecile with that nice little curse Alphard picked up in Cairo last spring.”

The men were discussing important comings and goings at the Ministry. That led to a discussion on the current Minister for Magic, which could only _logically_ lead to an intense debate about what had really happened at the pure-blood riots.

“My fault …”

“Yes.”

“My fault?”

“Yes, your fault.”

“My fault!”

“Yes,” Orion Black impatiently sighed. “Something large and poufy caught in your ear, dear cousin?” He carelessly brushed back his peppered dark hair as he listlessly drawled, “Or are your mental faculties declining prematurely?”

Cygnus raised a swift counterpoint. Emrys Rosier wound up sprouting an inappropriate appendage in an inappropriate place, caught in the crossfire, whereas Carlyle Greengrass had intelligently chosen not to intervene. Richard Gilmore – although used to more sedate affairs, like smoking pipes with Barty and tea with the Potters – had somehow found a way to fall asleep amidst the chaos unscathed. His copy of the _Evening Prophet_ lay on the long, ornate dining table. The harried face of another missing person blinked up at the endless midnight blue ceiling, the paper still opened to page nine.

“They would look just darling together,” cooed Druella Black.

The women were talking about the children.

“I must say, I’m of the personal opinion that is cutting it a bit close –”

“Like _you_ of all people have an authority on the matter –”

Boasting about the accomplishments of their offspring did not last long when there were potential marriages to talk about. Also, said ‘accomplishments’ of said offspring were not exactly the material a mother broadcasted by choice in a public forum.

“– which is why, I reiterate,” imperiously continued Walburga, her finely sculpted nose held high and blood-red lips smugly curved, “my eldest would be a much more suitable match than your nephew.”

“Well, I do suppose they were both Sorted into that disgusting cesspool of Muggle-lovers and filth, so I can see why you believe they’d make a perfectly lovely pair.”

Walburga Black became very still as her regal face unpleasantly pinched.

Emily had ceased lamenting the crack that was spreading on the bust of a grumbling, disgruntled Charles Gilmore to coldly bite out, “Choose your next words with extreme care, Ella.”

It turned out that Emily’s withering warning was unnecessary. Walburga had turned her sister-in-law into a pig in one quick yet lazy motion.

“This is brilliant!”

Sirius almost openly gaped at Lorelai, partly amused, partly appalled, and a smidgen admiring. “Brilliant? This is madness.”

“Then madness must be brilliant.”

His customary mask of affected boredom had nearly given way. “ _You’re_ mad.”

“I’m jazzed.”

“Mental! You are mental.”

“And mad!” she said, lightly slapping the table in jest. “Wait – who’s mad and mental? That’d be you, yeah? I mean, out of the two of us, _you’re_ the Black.”

He gave her an expression of such concentrated condescension that it would have made his father (uncharacteristically) proud (when involving him) and his mother disturbingly happy. “And yet, _you_ are.”

“Hm … I’ll have to think about it …”

“You done?”

“Just a second.”

“Well?”

“A second more.”

“You’ve already taken more than just a couple of seconds more.”

“I agree.”

“Merlin …”

“My brain is working exceptionally slow this evening. I suspect an Impediment Jinx.” She determinedly stared down her obnoxious cousin, Evan, who sat at the opposite end of the table with Sirius’s younger brother, Regulus.

“Of course you do.”

“Or the quail. Did the quail taste funny to you? Then again, doesn’t all quail taste at least a little funny?”

“This conversation is devolving faster than you in Flying, first year.”

“Something I have chosen to take great pride in.”

“No one _fails_ Flying.”

Lorelai drew herself up proudly. “First student in a quarter millennia.”

“I’m still in disbelief.”

“Always knew I would. You have no idea how much not-practising it took to get me into that negative a skill set. Spent my entire childhood avoiding brooms – not even looking at brooms and everything. Or _nothing_ , rather than _everything_. Nothing at brooms – nothing around brooms – nothing to do with brooms –”

“How have you and McKinnon been friends all these years? More importantly, how on Earth have you been friends with _James_ all these years?”

“I think I deserve a trophy.”

“I think you need to be tested.”

“Already have been.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked flatly.

“Winged horses!”

Sirius turned up the sarcasm, saying, “Impressive segue, Gilmore.”

“Well, my parents had me checked at St Mungo’s because of my all-encompassing hopelessness on a broomstick.”

“The link between the two is still shaky.”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there.”

“Go on, then. Go on.”

“It made no sense because I am – and this is me being modest, here – the most talented aerial equestrian you will ever meet – unless you’ve met my grandma. You should see me on my Granian. Which, funnily enough, lives in the stables at Gran’s country cottage.”

“You and James. OK. I am back to being able to see it again.”

“We only tell it because it’s true.”

A hand on his angular chin, he looked at her contemplatively. “You don’t ruffle your hair, though.”

“I always _have_ been more partial to the hair twirl,” she dramatically heaved, giving him a dazzling show of a preview.

Admittedly, the motion did make him dazed. A little dazed. Only a little and only for a moment. Not that he dared to allude to this. This atrocity, this travesty. Outwardly. Or inwardly.

The atrocious travesty never happened.

Sirius Black never swayed off balance. And certainly not over a bird. Bless the hopeless idiot, but that was James’s territory.

“A twirl?” said Sirius coolly.

“Because I’m a girl,” she sweetly smiled, batting her eyelashes in a mockingly coquettish fashion.

 _Nah_ , Sirius told himself. He was not affected by her in the least. “Right …”

“Right.”

“Lorelai Gilmore always has to have the last word, doesn’t she?”

“Why else do you think any and all conversations between James and I are the ones that never end?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but she had cut him off.

“Dirty! Pre-emptive dirty! You were going to say something dirty, weren’t you?”

“Sodding Salazar, you’re exhausting.”

“Ah, yes, my ancient Gobbledegook name.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by chapter four of Polaris Aries Black’s _The Black Secret_ and chapter two of _Hero_ by aterriblebeautyisborn – both of which you should totally read, BTW.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please, somebody, anybody, take this and run with it! You know you want to. The world is in dire need of more _Harry Potter_ / _Gilmore Girls_ crossovers.  
>   
> Lorelai Gilmore and Sirius Black? A match made in heaven (or hell).  
>   
>  _“Dark hair, romantic eyes, looks a little dangerous?”  
>   
>  “… Tattoos are good, too.”  
>   
> “Does he have a motorcycle? Because if you’re going to throw your life away, he better have a motorcycle!”_  
>   
> I mean, come on! I can't be the only madwoman thinking this!  
>   
> Ladies and gentlemen, the Drama King and Queen of the Wizarding World. A couple with limitless potential.


End file.
